Don't be a jerk. Try to love everyone. Give more than you take. And do it despite the fact that you only really like about 7 out of 500 people.

-Judd Apatow 

The Prince of Denmark-Chapter 8: Go On, I'll Follow

"The air is shrewd and bitingly cold," the ebony prince complained, scowling as he snuggled underneath the collar-line of his jacket in an attempt to shield his face from the wind.

"Yes, it's quite a nippy and eager wind, isn't it?" Horatio replied, himself shivering as well.

"What is the hour?" Hamlet inquired, growing steadily more impatient and agitated. The loud music and pungent smell of booze emanating from Elsinore's ballroom was not helping ease the prince's mood one bit.

"It is just shy of midnight, I believe," the blue hedgehog replied, taking note of his friend's dirty glances towards the raucous sounds originating from the grand ballroom.

"Non, it 'as already struck twelve," Marcellus piped up.

"Really?" Horatio quipped, "I heard it not over the clamor. So then, the hour that the ghost should appear is drawing nigh-"

Horatio was abruptly cut off as the royal trumpets blared their flourish-though sloppily, hinting at how intoxicated the players were-which was then followed by two loud BANGs as a pair of cannons were fired.

"What is the meaning of this, my lord?" the azure hedgehog asked, slightly alarmed by the sounds of flourish and ordnance.

Unfazed and further irked, Hamlet replied, "Placate yourself! It is but the sound of the king and his merry band of fools drinking and dancing the night away.

"Hear the musicians, they blare their trumpets and kettle-drums to celebrate his prodigious guzzling of German draughts," he snapped, rubbing his temples; he really was starting to get a migraine.

"Is it a custom?" Horatio asked.

"Marry, it is," the ebony prince sighed, "But to myself, though I am native to this land and its customs, I believe these traditions were better ignored rather than practiced. This rowdy revel gives other nations ammunition to traduce us, calling us drunkards and swine, and insulting our noble titles. Indeed, it does take a toll on our achievements, significant and great though they may be, and tarnishes our reputation.

"For so oft does it strike a few certain unfortunate, that for some anomaly of nature within them, placed upon them at birth (for which they are not at fault, since not a single individual can choose or control their origins), or for some abnormal habits are they looked upon with heavy judgement. It so happens that those who carry the stamp of one tiny defect, as wonderful and virtuous and talented and pure as grace though they may be otherwise, face the wrathful censure of everyone around them. As if the tiniest grain of evil towers over every single one of their most virtuous facets and casts deep shadows on all of their greatest achievements."

Hamlet's eyes then widened in shock as a ghostly figure suddenly appeared before the three men.

"Look, my lord," Horatio cried, pointing to the pearlescent apparition, "it comes!"

"Angels and ministers of grace, defend us!" the black hedgehog cried, crossing himself frantically, 

"Being either a spirit of health or a goblin damned, bringing either Heaven's breezes or blasts of Hellfire, here with intentions either wicked or charitable, you come in such a strange and bizarre shape that I have the burning desire to speak to you.

"I'll call you 'Hamlet,' 'King,' 'Father,' 'royal Dane.' O answer me! Let me not burst in ignorance, but declare to me why your canonized bones have burst through your coffin; why your tomb, where we have witnessed you being interred, has reopened its marble jaws and spat you out into the world of the living once more? What may this mean, that your corpse has 'taken up arms' yet again, catching glimpses of the moon, making the night hideously terrifying and we fools of nature to tremble in our boots, with thoughts of nothing but the domain beyond the reach of our souls? Why? What do you want from us?"

The Ghost said nothing, but motioned for a trembling Hamlet to come towards it.

"It beckons for you to go away with it," said Horatio, "It's as if it wishes to impart something to you and you alone."

"Look 'ow courteously it waves you toward more removed ground," Marcellus said shakily, "Do not go with it, s'il vous plait."

"No, by no means," the azure hedgehog interjected.

"But it will not speak otherwise. So, I shall follow it," the onyx hedgehog declared, at last regaining control over his trembling.

"Do not, my lord," Horatio replied vehemently.

"And why not?" the prince snapped, "What should be there for me to fear? I value my life no more than a murderer values the life of his victims. And as for my soul-well, a ghost cannot possibly do much to something as immortal as itself, can it? Look, it beckons to me to come forth again. I'll follow it."

"But what if it tempts you towards the sea?" the azure hedgehog shot back, "What if it draws you toward the summit of the cliff overhanging it, and once there, assume some horrible form to drive you mad? Think of it. The very place makes even the most level-headed of men feel despair to just look at the fathoms upon fathoms that is its depth, and to hear its roar beneath them."

"It still waves to me," Hamlet replied, all but ignoring Horatio's protests.

"Go on," the ebony prince bellowed to the Ghost, "I'll follow."

"You shall not go, sire," Marcellus crowed as he and the cobalt hedgehog began to restrain the prince.

"Let go of me!" Hamlet cried, desperately trying to break free from the combined grip of the other hedgehog and the coyote.

"Peace, my lord! You're not going anywhere," Horatio retorted.

"My fate cries out," the prince cried, a glint of madness and desperation in his eyes as he squirmed even more under the other men's unwavering grip, "and all the nerves in my body, have become as hardy as steel. Still, I am called. Unhand me gentlemen!"

Hamlet then manages to break free of his captors and quickly draws his sword, while the other two could do nothing but back away from him, for Prince Hamlet's name was near-legendary when it came to the art of swordfighting.

"By Heaven do I swear," he began, "I shall make a ghost of he who dares hold me back. Get away!

"Go on ahead," he repeated to the Ghost, "I'll follow."

And with that, the onyx hedgehog leaps off of the battlement, landing neatly on the snow-flecked ground below. The pale apparition then drifts further away, with the ebony prince in tow.

"He waxes desperate and insane with imagination," Horatio pipes up, alarmed at the sudden turn of events.

"Let us follow zem," Marcellus replied, "It is not right to obey 'is order to leave 'im be."

"Go ahead," the azure hedgehog said, "But to what will this all lead to? When will it end?"

"Somesing is rotten in ze state of Denmark," the sentry replied darkly.

"Then let us let Heaven direct it then," the hedgehog retorted.

"Non," Marcellus declared, drawing his sword, "let us follow 'im."

---

A/N: I guess I should put a disclaimer here so I don't get shot at or kidnapped by The Copyright SWAT team or something. I own not a single cell of any of the Sonic characters used in this story, SEGA and/or Archie Comics do. Also, the story of Hamlet is not owned by me either, although no one really knows who owns it and therefore can take credit for being the original author because Shakespeare's scripts of it are but his own stage adaptation of an ancient story/stories whose origins and credibility are still being debated today.

If you can't dazzle them with your brilliance, baffle them with your bullshit!

-Unknown 

Success isn't defined by the dollar, my friend. It is defined by happiness.

-Jan Rae Licmo 

Either write something worth reading, or do something worth writing.

-Benjamin Franklin 

 

If nobody hates you, you're doing something wrong.

-Hugh Laurie as Dr. Gregory House, House M.D. (2004-2012)

The Hallowed Light of Home

None take notice

of the lamp that swings,

a guiding light

even on the darkest night,

stagger forward

with a shiver in your spine,

as wind whips and

the sounds of horror

abound.

Up and down,

orange and black,

the smell of cavities

and cheap

dollar store make-up.

And all around,

all you see

are the ghosts

and the monsters,

the witches

and all manner of damned characters.

But you remain resilient,

and push forward,

searching,

determinedly seeking out 

the light that leads home.

Happy (belated) Halloween, you candy-crazy beasts.

"I'm bored" is a useless thing to say. I mean, you live in a great, big, vast world that you've seen none percent of. Even the inside of your own mind is endless; it goes on forever, inwardly, do you understand? The fact that you're alive is amazing, so you don't get to say "I'm bored."

-Louis CK 

Sometimes I wish was 29 with my life figured out & sometimes I wish I was 5 with my whole life ahead of me and not a care in the world.

-Reyna Biddy 

Freedom

This shouldn't have had to happen.

No one should have died,

no one should have shot rounds,

no one should have to grieve,

for a nation, and the world, to become united.

But alas, it has happened,

and it is a reminder to all

of the fragile freedoms

we enjoy and take for granted.

Today shines as a dark day,

as it so dims to a bright night,

on the strength of us all,

wavering but never extinguishing.

It has happened, and now,

we must ensure,

that it never happens again,

not here, not anywhere.

R.I.P. Corporal Nathan Cirillo and Warrant Officer Patrice Vincent. We thank you for your generous sacrifice. I hope you're both having poutines with God right about now.

Good Riddance

If I died right now, 
say, by being run over 
or poisoned or stabbed 
or something, 
would you mourn for me 
if and when you eventually found out? 

Or would you mentally scream 
"good riddance" like everyone else would?

You gotta love livin' baby, 'cause dyin' is a pain in the ass.

-Frank Sinatra 

Letters To A Certain No One #7

Dear Certain No One,

Three years is both a very long time and a tiny portion of history.

Maybe I'm being a little bit dramatic about this, but I have mixed feelings about how close you've suddenly gotten physically.

Maybe I'm excited about how we live under the same snow-prone sky and in such close proximity, while at the same time, you could be everywhere I am nowhere.

Maybe I'm scared that you'll grow to hate what I've become after all this time. Or worse, you couldn't care less about my existence.

Maybe, just maybe.

But I really want to see you again.

And if I am to put my mind at ease, I'll HAVE to see you again.

Sincerely,

A Certain Other No One

Never Let Her Go-Chapter 1: Prologue Part I

Run, run, run!

That single mantra was the one thing at the forefront of the young hedgehog's mind.

Running through vast valleys, up steep mountains, and past open fields, the hedgehog couldn't help but let his thoughts wander. Out here, at this speed, he felt free. The next moment, however, the blue hedgehog snapped his attention back to his destination: Never Lake.

It would seem that the ruthless Robotnik was once again threatening to destroy and dominate Little Planet-at the very least, before he moved on to conquer the world-which was chained to a mountain with a hideously carved bust of him, located on the shoreline of Never Lake, with the intent of stripping away the freedoms and demolishing the natural habitats of the satellite's residents. And of course, who better to stop him than the one and only Blue Blur, Sonic the Hedgehog?

Run, run run!

---

Turn over the first card. The Fool. The starting point. Interpreted as the self. Starting with the self, and questioning what is to become of it.

Turn over the second card. The King of Cups. A man I could potentially meet. Interpreted as a possible romantic partner. Is romance the future for the self?

Turn over the third card. The Queen of Swords. A strong, noblewoman I could meet in the future. Interpreted as a voice of reason, stability and strength. Will she be significant enough to keep the self sturdy?

Turn over the fourth card. The sixth trump card, The Lovers. Interpreted as what it is about: love and relationships. Will the self have to rely on romance to have a purpose in life?

Turn over the fifth card. The Three of Swords. Interpreted as a heart pierced in three. Will the heart of the self be split by three?

Turn over the sixth card. The third trump card, the High Priestess. Interpreted as knowingness and love. Will the self be wiser due to its romantic encounters?

Turn over the seventh card. The seventh trump card, The Chariot. Interpreted as a strong, resilient force. Will wisdom from romance come from such a strong and unwavering source?

A young Amy Rose sat back and pondered over her latest tarot card reading, which was eerily similar to most of her recent readings about her own future.

Each reading would yield a similar result: Amy Rose, looking for a sense of purpose in her often empty and miserable life, will find it in her own princely chariot.

She had heard the stories, and watched the news reports. How both South Island and the Floating Island were briefly taken over by some mad human scientist, and how he had seemingly swooped in to save the day, time after glorious time. She was certain he was the princely chariot she so desperately needed.

And now, as she ran off towards Never Lake, she was hoping Sonic the Hedgehog would carry her away as soon as possible.

---

As far as the eye could see were palm trees lining the forest-or, what was left of it, at least. Sonic could not help but notice and cringe at the fact that a significant amount of the surrounding greenery was robotized and made metal.

To the hedgehog, the doctor's evil knew no bounds.

He set off quickly, in an effort to reach the mad genius' fortress, and hopefully restore at least some of the satellite's former natural beauty.

---

Amy Rose panted as she flopped onto the ground, exhausted from her climb up the chain that bound Little Planet to the mountain where Doctor Robotnik's hideous face was carved onto. She then winced as she felt cold metal make contact with her back.

After getting up and brushing herself off, the pink hedgehog gasped as she noticed how most of the landscape she was on was made of metal. Amy Rose had heard of the evil scientist's methods and ideologies but she had never imagined him to ever take it to the extent that he would robotize every living thing in sight. Momentarily forgetting why she had laboriously trudged towards Little Planet in the first place, she stalked off, seeking Sonic in the hope that he would let her help him defeat 

Robotnik.

She didn't travel very far to find what she sought after.

---

Sonic couldn't believe his eyes. Before him was an actual, live, sentient, non-metallic being who was not robotized to begin with.

The blue hedgehog slowed his pace down to a very light jog; he didn't want to frighten the poor thing. Now that he came to think of it, Sonic realized that it was not a thing, it was a hedgehog, and it was a girl. Sonic saw her ear twitch as she heard his footsteps approaching. But before the cobalt hedgehog had time to even call out the other, the girl turned around and squealed.

"Sonikku!" she cried out, making poor Sonic nearly jump out of his own skin. Funny, he was the one making the effort to not startle her, yet she was the one who scared him.

---

Amy could not believe how attractive Sonic looked. Sure, she had seen pictures from the news and stuff, but it was nothing compared to seeing him in person. As expected, he was cute and adorable, but he was also beginning to look quite handsome. That, combined with his unwavering heroism, was enough for Amy to go head over heels the moment she laid eyes on him. Impulse essentially quelling all rational thought, she lunged at Sonic, fully intending to at least hug him, if not, kiss him.

---

Sonic yelped as the hedgehog girl dove straight for him. Expecting an attack, he shut his eyes and braced for the worst, only to find that he was being hugged, and quite tightly too. His face then flushed to a deep crimson as he became half-embarassed and half-asphyxiated within the girl's embrace.

She would be cute if she wasn't so clingy, Sonic thought. He blushed even harder as he realized the sentence he had just formulated in his mind.

---

A/N: I could only wish I owned Sonic and co. I would be so rich and so able to pay off my tuition fees and student loans. But I don't. SEGA and/or Archie Comics do.

Also, sincere apologies if my understanding and description of tarot card reading is completely wrong. I only read Wikipedia articles on it because I'm not exactly sure I know anyone who knows even the slightest bit about it. I only included it because it was kinda essential to this whole story idea shindig thang.

The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation, but your thoughts about it.

-Eckhart Tolle 

The Prince of Denmark-Chapter 7: Tenders and Vows

Polonius waited until Laertes' carriage had fully departed, which left only him and Ophelia standing in the front courtyard of the castle grounds.

Being a preternaturally curious man-some would even go so far as to describe him as being "nosy"-Polonius turned to his daughter, wanting to ask what his children were discussing beforehand.

"What is it Ophelia, that your brother had said to you that was important enough for him to ask for you to swear it be locked away in your heart?" he asked the pink hedgehog.

Again, Ophelia groaned inwardly, for however much she despised discussing the matter of Prince Hamlet and his advances on her with Laertes, she absolutely loathed discussing it with her oft-overbearing father that much more. Swallowing her trepidation, she replied evenly and bluntly, "If it so please you, it was the subject of Lord Hamlet."

"And thank Heavens he did," Polonius barked out sharply, which made the rose-colored hedgehog flinch, though the cobalt blue hedgehog took no notice and spun on his heel, walking back towards Elsinore, "I have heard of rumors that speak of Lord Hamlet seeking to spend an awful lot of private time with you as of late, and that you've made yourself quiteavailable to him," Ophelia turned her head to hide her growing blush, but Polonius either ignored it or was completely oblivious to it, for he continued, "If it be so-and my sources only inform me of this out of caution-then I must say, you are not conducting enough self-restraint that any daughter of mine should show."

The elder hedgehog suddenly grasped his daughter's hands in his own, and turned her so that they were forced to make eye contact. Ophelia yelped at her father's movements and quivered in trepidation as she now could not hide the dark blush that had shaded her muzzle almost beyond the pink of her fur.

Taking note of her almost color-blended face, Polonius asked, with as little tension as he could, "What is between you two? Tell me the truth."

Ophelia decided to answer simply, "He has, as of late, made many tenders of his affection to me."

"Affection!" Polonius barked and, throwing Ophelia's hands away, resumed walking, again making the maiden yelp before following in his stead, though a few paces behind, "Pooh! You speak like a green girl, unaware and ignorant to the ways of the world. Don't tell me you believe in these 'tenders,' as you call them."

Deciding to answer honestly, the pink hedgehog replied, "I know not what I should believe, father."

"Marry, I'll tell you," the elder hedgehog snapped over his shoulder, "Think of yourself as a foolish little infant, should you take these 'tenders' as true pay, for they are far from sterling.Tender and respect yourself more dearly, or-not to beat the poor word to death-you'll tender me a laughing-stock."

"Father, he has always spoken of love in an honorable fashion-" Ophelia began, but stopped as she was interrupted by her father.

"Ay, 'fashion' you may call it-a passing whim," Polonius remarked sarcastically. Seeing he had halted his daughter mid-sentence, he then urged her, "Go on."

"He gives countenance to his word, with the holiest of vows," Ophelia continued, now with a slight hint of vehemence laced into her response.

Though slightly taken aback by his daughter's retort, Polonius unwaveringly shot back, "Ay, these 'vows' are but springes to ensnare stupid birds. When blood burns, how a man's soul succumbs to enough prodigality to lend his tongue ridiculous vows. When the heart itself burns, giving more light than heat, the fire shall be extinct long before his promises are even made. You must not mistake it for the fires of true love.

"From this moment onward, make your maiden presence scant to him, and treat him not to your tongue. Make yourself out to be the precious commodity you should be," the cobalt hedgehog ordered, rounding on his daughter once more, "Remember that young Lord Hamlet walks with a larger tether than may be given to you."

Ophelia, still slightly flushed, looked about ready to argue with her father, but Polonius raised a hand and spoke again, neutering her ability to do so, "In few, Ophelia, believe not his vows, for they are akin to mere pimps; donning suits and acting like pious bawds, the better to beguile women into a fling of indecency.

"Simply put, waste not any more time with the Lord Hamlet. Look to see it be done. Now, come," he commanded, turning on his heel one final time and marching into the halls of Elsinore.

"I shall obey, father," Ophelia replied, though Polonius was already well out of earshot.

But Ophelia already knew that he knew she wouldn't disobey him, not before, and certainly not now.

---

A/N: I guess I should put a disclaimer here so I don't get shot at or kidnapped by The Copyright SWAT team or something. I own not a single cell of any of the Sonic characters used in this story, SEGA and/or Archie Comics do. Also, the story of Hamlet is not owned by me either, although no one really knows who owns it and therefore can take credit for being the original author because Shakespeare's scripts of it are but his own stage adaptation of an ancient story/stories whose origins and credibility are still being debated today.

Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.

-Pablo Picasso 

Letters To A Certain No One #6

Dear Certain No One,

Apart from those few fleeting moments in middle school of what could be considered "kindness," you've been nothing but a completely cold jackass to me.

First of all, the one class we had together in sophomore year was a hellhole because of you. Now, you acknowledge me in much the same way you would acknowledge still air. It's like I'm dead to you.

Not that I'm complaining, because guess what? I don't care, for you've long been dead in my eyes.

Sincerely,

A Certain Other No One

They can't hurt you unless you let them.

-John O'Callaghan 

Surround yourself with the dreamers and the doers, the believers and the thinkers, but most of all, surround yourself with those who see the greatness within you, even when you don't see it yourself.

-Edmund Lee 

Nostalgia is a beautiful thing, but if you're not careful, you risk getting stuck in your own personal mythology.

-Hugo Pierre Leclercq 

Letters To A Certain No One #5

Dear Certain No One,

I have steeled myself against crying in public to the point that I cannot shed tears unless I'm by myself. And even then I struggle to choke them back and force them to evaporate, rather than stain my cheeks and sting my eyes.

I'm not blaming you specifically, because the whole world shares the blame.

Sincerely,

A Certain Other No One

People say "There are other fish in the sea." I say, "Fuck you, she was my sea."

-Jen Faulkner 

The act of reading is a partnership. The author builds the house, but the reader makes it a home.

-Jodi Picoult and Samantha van Leer, Between The Lines (2012)

Letters To A Certain No One #4

Dear Certain No One,

I'm all for expressing yourself, but you take it beyond what you should. You're too obnoxious, too in-your-face. Independence does not equal alienation and antagonization of the people around you.

Sincerely,

A Certain Other No One

You cannot control the depth of a wound another inflicts upon you.

-Lang Leav 

Every time you forgive, the universe changes.

-W. Paul Young 

Letters To A Certain No One #3

Dear Certain No One,

Don't give me that "it'll be fine" bullshit line. I know for a fact that it will either turn out okay or I'll get used to it, and I know that it'll happen in the future. Right now, however, the least you could do is let me trust you enough to be a shoulder to cry on, and not an alarm blaring "shut up and stop being a little bitch about it" at me.

They say that chivalry is dead, and guess what? You're just another nail in its coffin and another shovelful of dirt in its grave.

Sincerely

A Certain Other No One

Old Man Elm

There, Old Man Elm stands,

tall and proud,

upon his head,

a golden crown.

And at his feet,

the blades dance,

grass rippling in rhythm,

as if wishing to entrance.

And at his sides,

his arms reach skyward,

gnarled limbs in support of life itself,

leading nature onward.

There, Old Man Elm stands,

tall and proud,

so mighty and majestic,

yet making nary a sound.

---

Happy Fall guys! May your leaves be crunchy and your pumpkin spice lattes be pumpkin spice latte-y!

I no longer have patience for certain things, not because I've become arrogant, but simply because I reached a point in my life where I do not want to waste more time with what displeases me or hurts me.

-Meryl Streep 

Expecting a trouble-free life because you are a good person is like expecting the bull not to charge you because you are a vegetarian.

-Jeffrey R. Holland 

Letters To A Certain No One #2

Dear Certain No One,

Maybe, just maybe, I'm too used to noticing people becoming annoyed by me.

It's the way their eyes slowly drift off, focus elsewhere, or the hollow enthusiasm, or lack thereof, in a person's voice, usually accompanied by concise, one-word answers. It's the way they prop their chin on their palm, with no emotion of any kind etched onto their face.

Maybe I just don't interest them enough as a person, or maybe I'm just too overbearing to be sociable with.

Please, do accept my apology, but do you really deserve it? Do you know how hard it is for me, in situations of social interaction, to be engaged and active, because if there's one thing I hate, it's being the "quiet" one among a group of otherwise acquainted strangers. Never mind among people whose existence I am aware of and my existence theirs, but don't exactly talk or interact often, in which case it's worse. What's even worse than that is that I feel I miss out. I miss out on making friends. I miss out on strengthening my existing friendships. I miss out on all of the great and wonderful things I could be doing, all because I am now afraid.

And really, I have you to thank for that, so thank you.

Sincerely,

A Certain Other No One

It is time that we all see gender as a spectrum instead of two sets of opposing ideals. We should stop defining each other by what we are not, and start defining ourselves by who we are.

-Emma Watson, UN Women Goodwill Ambassador 

Letters To A Certain No One #1

Dear Certain No One,

Lately I find myself in that grey area in between happy and sad. As if I contain a mixture of both, but at the same time, completely devoid of either.

But maybe it's just a telltale sign of exhaustion.

Sincerely,

A Certain Other No One

Grey Area

The world is not cut
in two equal halves
and neither is it
halved in black in white.

Never so strongly
do I feel that than now,
neither happy nor sad,
but in the grey area in between.

Think me not as overjoyed,
and neither am I deeply morose,
think of me as more unsure,
and torn and conflicted.

Like I've been hit
with a wave of static,
the charge enough to upset,
but not enough to last.

Collide And Diminish

The room transforms,
yet it remains the same as ever.

Where there had once been
several warm bodies,
there is now nothing
but time and space,
on the verge of freezing.

Space becomes nonexistent,
and time becomes but
something out of a dream.

But how could it exist in dreams,
for right now, I dream
my greatest and most cherished dream.

Further collision,
and further diminishing
of the concept of space itself.

Space exists not between us.

For we merge.

We are one.

We are whole.

We are here.

I write music for these movies, and I sing songs. I dance in the movies and act in them, and it's not that I'm gifted at all of these things...it's that I'm not afraid to be bad at them until I'm good at them.

-Jason Segel 

Her whole life was governed by her desire not to be blamed, so she never did anything, and got blamed for that.

-Unknown 

Break The Ice

Friendship is much
like water.

When people say
"break the ice,"
it implies separation.
You and the other,
submerged in waters,
and separated only
by a layer of ice.

Though what people neglect to say,
is that you can also create more ice,
create more separation.
Turn one layer
into a completely frozen channel.

By then, "breaking the ice"
is but a means
to turn it all into vapor,
nothing more than invisible water.

Worth Less

Look through the lens
and see what I see.
An idiot, a peasant,
a queen,
a sentimental fool,
and a complete asshole.

Feeling worthless,
feeling like you're worth less
than the penny you have
clutched in dirty,
hypocritical,
narcissistic,
and overbearing hands.

The feeling has won.

It won the moment it showed up.

Think not of me as wanting
pity, attention, or something
so petty.

Think of me as wanting
another soul to spill to,
another channel to flow through.

Though of course,
I myself was the only option.

The one thing that you have, that nobody else has, is you. Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision. So write and draw and build and play and dance and live only as you can.

-Author Unknown 

Broken

Shattered like a mirror,
and crushed like a rose,
you are.

Broken into pieces and
scattered around,
for everyone to see.

But, when I touch you,
I am pricked,
and I am cut.

I try so desperately
to pick up the pieces,
that I am left breaking myself.

Once Strong Men Were We

The Western Front,
unable to advance,
was instead left to defend
and slowly ravage France.

But in the trenches,
our own battle were being fought.
A vicious malice that
Nature herself had wrought.

When the sound of bullets
didn't pierce the air,
it was rent with cries of pain,
as if they had pulled out all of their hair.

Once strong men,
who thought they'd be back
come Christmas,
are still under the same sky black.

Once strong men, reduced to tears,
plagued by Trench Foot and disease,
suffering as much as they did in battle,
unable to be at ease.

Once strong men
were we.
Now, here we stand, half-dead,
in the fight to be free.

Avoid using the word "very," because it is lazy. A man is not "very tired," he is "exhausted." Don't use "very sad," use "morose." Language was invented for one reason, boys-to woo women-and, in that endeavor, laziness will not do.

-Robin Williams as John Keating, Dead Poets Society (1989) 

Changing, Going Away

Wash away my shame,
with this gentle rain.
Wash away the pain,
from the winter that came.

Gently caress me,
with these tears from the sky,
flowing in memory
of days gone by.

In the gloom of the gray day,
the rain reflects off the asphalt,
glowing like a sunny May,
or like artist's cobalt.

This gentle downpour
soothes my fears,
and quells my anxieties.
It is much like shedding tears.

Soft rain,
won't you stay?
Though I know,
you must go away.

I look forward again
to when we meet,
for I know that
the next time will be sweet.

Damage

If you could look back
at the damage you've done,
could you, would you,
have dropped the gun?

Turn back around
and walk away,
in between raindrops
that have been falling all day.

Flash a broken smile,
not a bullet to my head,
to make me see tears,
instead of a sea of red.

If I cannot fly, let me sing.

-Stephen Sondheim 

Lesser of Two Evils-Chapter 2: Fight The Future

Though the foliage was dense and the footing treacherous, Locke had no problems whatsoever in navigating through the jungle on the north-east side of Angel Island.

For him, the path was almost second-nature, having been a route often travelled upon, not just by Locke, but a certain other echidna whom the Guardian knew would be at the end of it.

Finally, after jumping over a pit of quicksand, he arrived at his destination.

Before him lay a circular clearing, and on the opposite side of it, the trees stood at quite a distance from one another, providing a stark contrast to the dense jungle behind him. As well, the ground fell completely away at the point opposite Locke; it was the north-eastern edge of the Island.

The space in between the two closest trees would have provided a complete view of the blue sky and occasional clouds that surrounded Angel Island, had there not been an ancient echidna seated there, cross-legged and meditating.

The younger echidna inched towards the elder quietly, not wanting to disturb him. But, before Locke could reach him, he spoke first.

"I take it you have finally realized the legitimacy of your 'dreams?'" he said in a strong voice that was unexpectedly assertive and clear for his age.

"No," the Guardian began nervously, but in an unwavering voice, he continued, "I came to ask for advice...Grandfather Athair."

Locke was not surprised that Athair knew of the dreams that the Ancient Walkers had seemingly sent him, as Athair himself had close ties to the three celestial beings.

Athair then stood up from his seated position, with the same swift agility as a much younger echidna-again, unexpectedly so at his age. In fact, the only thing that really belied his years was his once-brilliant-but-now-dulled maroon fur.

"What you witnessed is the future, Locke," he began, cutting straight to the point, though his gaze was not to his grandson, but to the currently dormant volcano in the middle of the Island.

Locke's heart sank and his stomach churned at the confirmation of his worst nightmare eventually coming true, yet Athair continued unflinchingly, "a future that may yet contain a shred of hope, if you prepare for it."

The younger echidna's heart rate sped up, both in trepidation and excitement at his grandfather's words. Careful not to throw caution and doubt to the wind, he presses Athair further, "And how am I to go about this task, grandfather?"

Finally glancing at the younger echidna, Athair replies, "I cannot tell you much, but I can tell you this: Reconcile the past with the present into the next generation."

At first, Locke was at a loss for words, as his mind processed what Athair had advised him to do. Suddenly, with wide eyes, Locke came to a realization.

"A-are you telling me to...to genetically alter my son?" Locke asked, incredulous. He could not even fathom that Athair, of all people, would even suggest bringing up a method that was not only extremely difficult, but also strictly forbidden.

"As it stands right now, not even you could provide enough training for your son to defend both himself and the world around us from the impending doom," Athair stated gravely, "and none of the world's greatest heroes so far would be a match for the evil that will eventually come."

"But at what cost to him?" Locke struggled to keep himself from yelling, but his voice steadily rose, "What price must he-and his family-pay to ensure the safety of the universe? Can't the Brotherhood do anything?"

"If we could do anything, the Ancient Walkers would have warned the rest of us, and not just you," Athair replied, a little coldly. Seeing his grandson' desperation however, the elder echidna's scowling face softened as he sighed and said, "I had asked the exact same questions when I discussed the matter with the Walkers," Athair placed a hand on his grandson's shoulder, "but, I realized that, to defend an entire universe, we must do what we have to, no matter how much we dislike the means and the methods to do so."

Athair then hardened his face once more as he sat back down again, beginning to meditate further, which was the cue for Locke that their meeting was at an end.

However, even without the non-verbal signal, the Guardian turned away, his face hardening as well, as he steeled himself for what he had to do.

"Though the Brotherhood cannot fight the future," the elder echidna began, which startled the unsuspecting Locke slightly, "you can create its savior."

Locke said nothing, but silently thanked his grandfather, who was now in a trance-like state, and, after giving him the *Guardian's Salute, turned away, back to the dense jungle where he once walked, uncertain and afraid. Walking through it now, the fear may not have diminished much, but his determination was doubled.

---

A/N: I own neither hide nor hair nor circuit nor shard of any of the Mobians/robotic mechs/objects of power mentioned in the above story. SEGA and or Archie Comics do.

*The Guardian's Salute is something completely non-canonical to anything, so I guess I own that. As for what it is, it's basically the act of flexing the knuckles of your right hand by wrapping your left hand around it, and bowing your head so that your lips touch the left index finger knuckle. As the name implies, it is used to respectfully greet, acknowledge, give thanks and say farewell to the current Guardian, as well as the members of the Brotherhood all up in Haven.

You should be angry. You must not be bitter. Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. It doesn’t do anything to the object of its displeasure. So use that anger. You write it. You paint it. You dance it. You march it. You vote it. You do everything about it. You talk it. Never stop talking it.

-Maya Angelou 

Lesser of Two Evils-Chapter 1: Only A Dream

Complete carnage.

Those two words were but a gross understatement. Those two words could not even describe a portion of what lay before him.

Once tall, proud skyscrapers reduced to a pile of concrete, glass and steel. The streets cracked, broken and littered with debris. Even the sky, once so brilliant and blue, was now dark and desolate, so grey it was almost black, with a toxic red tinge.

And it wasn't just the echidna's sight that was being overwhelmed. All five senses were working overtime, attempting to drink in all that was before him. His hearing, pounded on relentlessly by cries; of fear, of pain, of death. His skin, pushed to its limit by the excruciating heat from the raging inferno engulfing almost everything. His sense of smell and taste were being overwhelmed too. His nose so overloaded with the smells of destruction, despair and death, he could practically taste the smoke, soot and blood on his tongue.

Tremors, further adding to the hellish madness, knocked the echidna off-balance. Regaining his footing, he gazed upon a behemoth that towered almost up to the ominous clouds, still hammering missiles upon the city's surface, hell-bent on complete destruction, as if its sole purpose was to send a downpour of death to all within its reach.

And standing in between the echidna and the giant was another, younger echidna.

Recognizing the younger echidna, the elder called him out, but to no avail, for it was as if his voice was lost amongst the armageddon that surrounded them.

Even with the behemoth towering above him, the younger echidna positioned himself into a fighting stance.

The colossus, somehow noticing the comparatively miniscule echidna that foolishly tried to challenge it, began to draw back a gigantic metal fist. Surely, even a tap on the head from a fist that size would induce a major concussion and severe brain damage. However, mechs, particularly enormous, battle-ready weapons of war, unfortunately have no concept of holding back.

Desperately trying to reach the younger echidna, the elder one had tried to run, but with so much debris in his way, he could only manage a frustrating half-jog as he avoided cracks, pieces of buildings and the occasional dead body, in an effort to reach the younger one.

No! Not my son, he pleaded.

But his efforts were in vain, for the titan's hand, heavy though it may be, had started coming down at an alarming rate, faster than what the older echidna could hope the younger one would be able to avoid.

All he could do was scream, and then, a flash of brilliant white light.

"NOOOOOOO!"

Sudden darkness engulfed his vision, though the image of the younger echidna-his son-looking back and smiling at him just as he had cried out, was still burned into his eyes.

"Locke, honey, what's wrong?" asked an apprehensive female voice beside him.

It was then that the echidna named Locke realized that he was sitting bolt upright in his bed, having woken up both him and his wife, Lara-Le from their slumber.

Lara-Le turned on the lamp on her nightstand, gazing at her husband's terrified face with worry.

"Only a dream, Lara," he began, sweating and panting profusely, "yet more than a dream."

Lara-Le knew what he was referring to, for it had been the same dream he had dreamt and woken both of them up with several times for the past few months.

So, without saying anything more, she embraced the love of her life tightly, praying to *Aurora for some sort of relief to Locke's anguish.

---

A/N: I own neither hide nor hair nor circuit nor shard of any of the Mobians/robotic mechs/objects of power mentioned in the above story. SEGA and or Archie Comics do.

*Aurora is one of the apparently numerous celestial beings/deities that exist in the Archie multi-verse, basically existing on the same plane as the Ancient Walkers. She is often portrayed as a pink echidna (she actually used to be a Chaos energy research scientist in Albion, until she and her then-romantic partner Enerjak became servants of the Ancient Walkers, allowing them both to ascend into the Chaos Force and essentially become gods), though she apparently can appear to others as they imagine her to be, no matter the species. Most prominently in the comics, she is portrayed as the deity that most, if not all non-Dark Legion echidnas worship. Places of worship dedicated to her are called "Aurorariums." She would later succeed the Ancient Walkers, along with Athair (Locke's grandfather who also had close ties to the three beings), and Merlin Prower (Tails' uncle who practices magic, having once been the Wizard of the Acorn Kingdom), becoming the Neo Walkers.

Give me your uselessness and I'll give you my back as I walk away.

-Jade Stoddart 

Thunder

Baby eyes, stare into mine,
innocence and wonder,
you'll find under those browns
that yearn to show the world
their thunder.

How I smile inside, six inches wide,
but behind it is sorrow,
for her brow will turn furrowed,
for she will understand and witness pain,
but thankfully, not until tomorrow.

The Prince of Denmark-Chapter 6: To Thine Own Self, Be True

"My belongings have already been loaded on the ship," Laertes turns to Ophelia, after he gives his room one last sweeping glance, to find any necessary belonging he may have missed, "And with that, I bid you farewell. As well, dear Ophelia, as the winds give benefit and ships sail, sleep not, but let me hear from you. Please write."

Smirking slightly, the rose-colored hedgehog shot back, "Do you doubt that I will?"

Laertes allowed himself a small smile at his sister's cheek, before setting his mouth into a firm line as he continued, "As for Hamlet and his advances with you," at this, Ophelia inwardly groaned, for they had encroached upon the subject she wanted to avoid discussing most, least of all with Laertes, "consider it playful flirting, a phase brought on by his tempered youth. Something like that cannot last. It is sweet, but it will fade in a minute. Not a second more."

"No more than that?" the maiden asked, half-genuinely. Even though some part of her knew that Laertes' words were only spoken out of feelings of protectiveness and a belief that very few men were worthy enough to court her-funny he should think that even a prince wouldn't be worthy of me; dear brother you flatter me too greatly, she thought-Ophelia felt a twinge of doubt at her supposed lover's musings and affectionate gestures, now that her brother brought the subject forward.

"Try and think of it like so," he stated bluntly, "When boys grow, they grow not just in size and bulk, but their responsibilities grow wide withal," Ophelia considers this, unsure of where he was going and slightly embarassed at his blunt and rather sexually-undertoned analogy, "Perhaps he loves you now, and bears no ill-intent," the teal hedgehog continued, unaware of his sister's mounting discomfort, "but you must stand vigilant. Always remember that, because he belongs to the royal family, his intentions, however good, are meaningless. His will isn't his own, for he is bound to his obligations as heir apparent to the state. He cannot, as common people can, carve for himself and indulge in his own desires, for on his choices depend the health and safety of our nation. Therefore, his choices must be circumscribed around the needs and wants of the country he will eventually lead."

Ophelia's heart sank further as she came to the realization that, no matter how much she disliked it, her brother was right, but still, the teal hedgehog pressed on, "So, if he says he 'loves you,' it would be wise to perceive his words as meaning only as much as the state of Denmark would allow them to mean.

"Moreover, think of what would happen if you caved in to his words and his advances," Ophelia's muzzle grew a blush in the same shade as her fur, not wanting to believe that Laertes would even speak of such a subject, but she still said nothing, allowing her brother to ramble on, "think of the loss your honor would sustain, think of the inevitable loss of your heart, and the mangled state your chaste treasure chest would be in, should you succumb to his 'loving,' greedy fingers," even with her head turned to the side, Laertes could not help but notice the deep shade of crimson his sister's muzzle had adopted, and struggled to reel himself back to the boundaries of appropriate speech and innuendos.

"Fear it, Ophelia," he began again softly after a brief pause, which made Ophelia snap her focus back to her brother, "Please, I beseech you, to keep your love under control, and avoid becoming a target of his lust and desire," Ophelia averts her gaze once more, though Laertes fails to notice and continues, "A maid unmasking her beauty to the moon is risk enough-exposing yourself to him should be out of the question. Virtue cannot outweigh calumny, and even the most virtuous of souls fall prey to vicious slander. Worms scurry around gardens, ruining and killing the infant rose blooms of spring, before they even have a hope of blossoming into the beauty we all know they can achieve. These buds, ripe in the dew of youth, are most susceptible to disease and death.

"Be wary then," the teal hedgehog remarks, grabbing the pink hedgehog's hands with his own, "The greatest safety lies in your fear. Youth will rebel against itself, stripping off self-control though no one else be near to tell them to. Remember this, dear Rose Bud."

Ophelia smirks slightly at her old nickname, given to her due to her apparent resemblance to a pink rose. Her smirk then becomes a small smile, as she contemplates how over-protective Laertes can be.

"I shall keep this good lesson close to my heart, as a watchman for my safety," she retorted, now scowling slightly, "But, dear brother, be not like a blasphemous, ungracious hypocrite of a pastor, who shows me the steep and thorny way to the heavens, and shoves me forward while he frolics like a pompous, uncaring libertine on the primrose path of dalliance and sin."

Laertes could not help but chuckle at his sister's boldness, rebutting his advice with her own.

"Fear me not," he assured her, pulling her into an embrace, as their father comes into the room.

"I have stayed here too long, for here father comes," Laertes notices the affectionate smile that the cobalt blue hedgehog wears, witnessing his children's embrace, "What luck! A double blessing is a double grace."

"Still here, Laertes?" the blue hedgehog asked in a stern voice, though his lips were starting to twist into a smile, "Aboard, aboard, for shame! The winds sit within the sail, awaiting on you to embark and to give them the word to move forward," Laertes shared a light chuckle with his father as he releases Ophelia and they embrace, "There again, my blessing now doubled, and, with what I am about to advise you with, your wisdom hopefully widened.

"Give your thoughts no tongue to speak aloud with, nor any ill thoughts be given hands to carry out their ill intent," Polonius began, brushing his brown fringe back, "Be amiable, but by no means vulgarly affectionate. Test the friends that you have to find out who will never cease to be trustworthy and hold onto them."

Polonius and Ophelia began to escort Laertes outside at this point, as his father rambled on, "But, do not dull your palms shaking hands with every unfledged comrade you meet," the cobalt hedgehog then turned to his son, placing both hands on the younger hedgehog's shoulder, and suddenly hardening his face, "Beware, do not pick any fights, but should you find yourself in a quarrel, be sure to hold your own."

The elder hedgehog's face then softens, as he continues, "Lend to all your ears and take their opinion, but give few your voice and even less your own judgement," Polonius pauses as he smooths out a wrinkle in Laertes' shirt, "Afford yourself some expensive clothing, though none so fancy as to be garish; something rich but not gaudy. The clothes do make a man, especially in France.

"Neither a borrower nor a lender be," Laertes was now fastening his coat, smiling at the old man's insistence on reinstating his advice again, "Loans often lose both itself and comrade, and borrowing all but neuters husbandry.

"Finally," Polonius paused, making sure Laertes was listening and not fumbling with his coat distractedly, "this above all: to your own self, be true, and follow it through, like the day does night. You cannot then be false to any other man.

"Farewell, my son," the two men embraced again, "My blessing shall hopefully let all this be absorbed into you."

"I humbly take my leave," Laertes remarks, respectfully bowing his head slightly, "Farewell, father."

"Go now, for the time is right!" the cobalt hedgehog urged, "Your servants and the wind await you."

"Farewell, Ophelia," he waved back at the rose hedgehog, "Remember well what I have said to you, dear Rose Bud!"

"It is locked in my memory," she called back, "and it is you yourself who is the keeper of the key."

"Farewell."

And with that, Laertes began his journey to France.

---

A/N: I guess I should put a disclaimer here so I don't get shot at or kidnapped by The Copyright SWAT team or something. I own not a single cell of any of the Sonic characters used in this story, SEGA and/or Archie Comics do. Also, the story of Hamlet is not owned by me either, although no one really knows who owns it and therefore can take credit for being the original author because Shakespeare's scripts of it are but his own stage adaptation of an ancient story/stories whose origins and credibility are still being debated today.

Fountain

There again was the familiar sound
of rushing water,
pouring from concrete figures,
and cascading down
into a wide basin that has seen better days
in the hands of more delicate and careful
denizens and fortune-seekers.

There again was the glint
of dulled copper, silver and
sometimes, gold that shone through
the choppy, leaf-and-dust-strewn surface,
signaling the thousands and thousands of souls
that have given up these coins,
not for a wish to be granted,
but to be given hope in things
mundane or morbid.

As kids, we used to say
that we would avoid
wasting away our lives
in front of this fountain,
in the hope that we wouldn't
need to wish for anything.
That we'd have everything
we ever aspired to achieve.

Look at where we are now.

I'm here, alone,
broke as hell,
and you're off a thousand miles away,
probably in the same situation.

Sacrificing coins to gain
an intangible something
that will fill the void
and make you feel
whole and good again.

Morning Lilt

You kiss me softly while
I gently caress your shoulder
to the lilt of the stereo,
set against a backdrop
of a quiet, Sunday morning.

Dust, filtered in morning sunshine,
wafting in the warm air,
and then,
into the spaces between our fingers,
until we clasp them
together tightly.

Your fingers,
interlocking with mine,
an ill-fitting puzzle.

But what more could I ask for?

Nothing that could be better
than this morning
full of stereo, dust and sunshine.

Temptation is horrifyingly beautiful, it can make you forget anything, even who you truly are.

-Brennan Lundie